


Counter-Gamed

by Prodigal_anon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Board Games, M/M, Multi, Tickling, playful, sastriel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 11:09:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8141653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prodigal_anon/pseuds/Prodigal_anon
Summary: Sam tries to win at a board game, daring the consequences.





	

One of the traditions they’ve settled into is “game night” (which coincides neatly with Kevin going to visit Charlie for “nerd night” and Dean having “man night” at Benny’s place, which everyone jokes probably includes chick flicks). Every week, Sam, Cas, and Gabriel all settle in to play a game that they take turns choosing.  Last week was mini golf, Cas’s choice, which was enjoyable. The week prior was Gabriel’s choice of Monopoly, which might have surprised anyone by being boring and predictable, were it not for the way each game also includes an element from one of their other favorite “hobbies” – namely, tickling the crap out of each other. Sam’s never going to forget the time Cas landed on the triple-housed Boardwalk square and had to “barter” to avoid bankruptcy.

 

This week is Sam’s choice, and he went with one he’s been secretly working on for weeks.  It’s a board game of his own invention, which he proudly unveiled to Dean at ten years old.  He called it “Power Crash” for no particular reason other than he’d been ten and thought it sounded cool, and the idea is to build up an awesome fortress that has dragons and ninjas.  It contains elements of both strategy and chance, though the “chance” cards tend to contribute mostly to the entertainment factor – things like singing a ridiculous song praising the person in the lead, or letting people stick cotton balls to you with sugar paste for a handful of points, or risk losing considerably more points.  

 

It was painstakingly drawn on a sheet of cardstock and colored with markers, and the chance cards were (now yellowed) index cards.  Dean had been impressed, and so had Ellen and Jo and Bobby when he brought it out when they visited them, and Sam’s not sure he’d ever been prouder in his life.  He has nothing but happy memories about this game, and given how much a part of their childhood it was, Sam had actually asked Dean’s blessing to bring it out to play with Cas and Gabriel for game night.  The mockery was expected but welcomed – there were noogies and the usual bitch/jerk exchange and Dean had opened the box and exclaimed over it fondly, saying that they needed to all play it sometime, which made Sam’s heart warm and he actually blushed and stammered, which made the cycle of mockery start again.  

 

He’d still been a little shy to reveal it to the angels, but needn’t have worried.  After a few minutes of obligatory cooing and hugging, he’d explained the rules and they’d gotten down to it, and frankly, it’s been a blast.

 

Sam is laughing delightedly as Gabriel plays “airplane” with Cas for a measly five points, on his back with his feet in the air, making buzzing noises with his lips at a disgruntled Cas who is wobbling in the air with his chest on Gabriel’s feet.

 

“I don’t understand why I need to be dragged into Gabriel’s indignity.  It was his card and his five points,” Cas says, frowning down at Gabriel, who starts laughing around the buzzing noises as Sam laughs harder.  Cas is playing up the grumpy act; they all have slid seamlessly into behaving as though they were actors on a TV ad for the game, exaggerating their reactions and being pleased at the laughter it brings.

 

Sam is extra pleased that they are, because he is gaming the hell out of Power Crash.  He’s the creator of this game and he knows every square on the board, every word on the chance cards and every tiny imperfection on the cards that lets him know what it is.  He’s been carefully setting them up so that when it comes to their fifteenth turn, where the Power Shakeup happens – the first place person has to do  _ anything _ the last place person says, or lose all points and start at zero – Gabriel’s gonna get  _ nailed _ .  

 

This turn is too close to the end and the dangerous fate of the game’s loser to want to risk losing the points.  Sam expects to be in last place by the Power Shakeup, by making a carefully “bad” gamble with his points before then, and he knows exactly what he’s going to do to Gabriel and it’s going to involve those ticklish shoulder blades.  

 

In addition, he counted the chance cards in setup so that immediately after that, Cas is going to draw the chance card that says “stand like a rainbow!” – to which a helpful stick-figure illustration was added, demonstrating that the person had to stand in an arch with their feet and hands on the floor and their stomachs facing up, for one turn, which should be easy for Sam and Gabriel to sabotage.  In a tickly sort of way.  It looks as though he’s going to land on a Double Punishment square at the same time, which is even better.  Sam has gotten Dean about a thousand times with this game over the years and he’s mastered the technique.

 

So he avoids letting his evil glee show by letting himself be fully engaged by in the fun, laughing when Gabriel has to sing a song in chicken clucks, and when Sam himself is forced to eat an ounce of spicy wasabi ginger peas and then immediately use the orange-flavored toothpaste which makes him gag and foam at the mouth at the same time.

 

“You look like a dog that got peanut butter in its mouth,” Gabriel tells him, laughing at the weird face Sam is making to try to get the taste out of his mouth.

 

Sam only laughs along with, because it’s only one more round until the Power Shakeup.

 

He’s almost rubbing his hands together when he draws his last card, not even caring what it says because it can’t possibly take the joy out of his upcoming victory – but, as it turns out, he’s wrong.

 

He blinks at it in confusion for a minute, not even sure what to make of it.

 

“What’s up, Samosa? Not what you’re expecting?” Gabriel sounds dangerously smug.

 

“This… I never made this card,” Sam says, horror beginning to show on his face.

 

“Oh really?  But didn’t you create this game?  I would have thought you’d know every nuance,” Cas asks, voice too curious to be sincere.

 

“It’s not my handwriting!” Sam’s voice is going a little higher and accusational.

 

“It’s certainly in the spirit of the game though, isn’t it?” Gabe’s grinning wickedly.

 

“That’s -!”  Sam is appalled at how thoroughly he’s been played.

 

“ _ Cheating _ ?”  Gabe and Cas ask in unison.

 

“As though you haven’t been cheating this entire time, trying to set us up!” Cas adds, chiding, a smirk on his face.

 

“That’s not cheating, that’s  _ gaming! _ ” Sam protests hotly.

 

“Enough stalling! Read the damn card already!” Gabriel commands.

 

The card is even aged properly, to look like any of the other cards in the twenty-year-old deck. Gabriel’s work, no doubt.  Sam’s scowling as he reads it.  “Win a…tickle fight, with both hands tied behind your back! Earn five hundred points.  That’s not even a 

real– it’s not even–“

 

“Thought you could trick the Trickster, did you?  Kiddo, I got a million-year head start on you,” Gabriel gloats.

 

Sam is making a pained expression as he tries to decide if this is salvageable.  If he agrees, he wins five hundred points, putting him in first place, which also means Cas will get to decide to tickle him at the Power Shakeup.  If he refuses, he’ll end up at zero, 

which he can’t possibly recover from before the game ends, which means… he’ll be the loser.  And the penalty for losing the game is too terrible to contemplate.

 

He grits his teeth. “So be it.  But you should both know – ” he points at them accusingly- “….that I will pay you back in full.  In FULL!”  

 

Gabriel and Cas only smirk at him.  Gabriel snaps his fingers and the gaudiest, ugliest pair of fuzzy handcuffs appear in front of them.  “Big talk from a big moose.  Let’s see if we can take him down a notch, Cas, what do you say?”

 

Cas grabs the cuffs and scootches behind Sam, drawing his hands behind his back and snapping the cuffs in place.  “I’m confident that we can, Gabriel.”  He gives Sam’s side a small tweak and chuckles at the gasp and scowl it draws from him.

 

“Hoh-kay.  So.  I notice there’s no time limit for this tickle fight,” Gabe says, winking at Sam’s flinch.  “So do we just keep going until Sammich manages to win?”

 

“That seems reasonable.”

 

“I hate you booooth!” Sam whines, edging away from them. Cas snags him by his ankle.  

 

“No you doooooon’t!” Gabriel gloats, rubbing his hands together gleefully.

 

Cas begins by running his fingers gently over the socks Sam’s got on – bright, neon orange and purple striped, which he has to wear until the end of the game, courtesy of another card.  It has little jingle bell bobbles at the top, which make a merry noise as his feet start jerking away.

 

“Shi-hihit, Cas!”  Sam is shaking his head and giggling already.

 

“Come ooooon, you lost fair and – well, anyway, you lost,” Gabriel teases.  “Let’s see those cute lil Sammich dimples!”  He starts prodding his index fingers in between Sam’s ribs, grinning like a shark at the full-body squirm that results.  

 

Sam flops over backwards onto the floor, putting his free foot up to Cas’s back and (somewhat carefully) trying to push him away.  “Y-youhoohoo guys ahahaare the worst!!”

 

“You may wish to retract that hyperbole until you’ve seen the ‘worst’ we can do,” Cas tells him, ignoring the pushing and pulling a stern face the way only he can, while digging his thumb gently into  _ that spot _ just under the ball of Sam’s foot, pulling a girly shriek from Sam’s throat.

 

Gabriel’s working his fingers up under Sam’s armpits, smiling at his torment.  “Hey, Cassie.  So here’s what I’m thinking.  We gotta give Sam here a way to win, right?  Or else we’ll be filthy, rotten cheaters just like him,” he winks at Sam, leaving the human to sputter around his laughter and blush furiously.

 

“I suppose we should.” Cas sounds unconcerned, grabbing Sam’s other leg and trapping them so that one leg is under each arm, as the angel tickles both feet that way, his long clever fingers wriggling across the expanse of the socked soles, and Sam’s laughter gains a few decibels of volume.

 

Gabriel snaps his fingers again, and a large, elaborate clock turns up out of nowhere – a single hand on the clock’s face is in the shape of a feather, stationary at the 12 o’clock position.  “Okay,” the archangel says, resuming his poking and prodding at Sam’s  ribcage, “…so here’s how you win.  You’re currently behind by 70 points, so after 70 seconds pass, you gotta yell, ‘I’m a cheater and I’m sorry!!’”

 

“Or else, we carry on tickling you for – 500 seconds.  The number of points you stand to gain,” Cas puts in, looking entirely too pleased.

 

Sam is trying to look aghast but it’s hard when he keeps giggling and squirming as the two angels are  _ totally cheating _ by tickling him before the clock has started.  “Buhuht that’s ay-hayhay, eight minutes!!”

 

“Eight minutes twenty seconds,” Cas corrects him.

 

“Ready to start?” Gabriel chimes in, grinning wickedly.

 

“Youhouhou alreheheady –“ Sam giggles.

 

“Yes, Gabriel, we’re ready,” Cas answers for them both, carrying on tickling Sam’s feet, ignoring his attempts to kick away.  

 

“Set……GO!”  The feather hand on the clock begins to slowly tick forward and the tickle fight begins.

 

They were already tickling him, of course, but now they crack down, tickling  _ relentlessly _ .  Cas’s fingers are twitching rapidly across Sam’s trapped soles, tweaking at the heels and sides and wriggling in between his soles.  Gabriel is roving over Sam’s upper body, vibrating his fingers into Sam’s ribs, tweaking up and down his sides, pulling up his shirt to spider over the bare skin of his tummy.  Both of them are laughing along with him, taunting him and congratulating each other when they get him to make a particularly interesting noise.

 

And Sam is regrettably making a LOT of weird noises – he shrieks, squeals, cackles and snorts laughter, wild and undignified and helpless as the mirth shoots through his body.  He’s so overwhelmed that forty seconds pass by before he can even remember to look at the clock – and another fifteen seconds pass before he can get his thoughts straight enough to remember that it’s the 70-second mark he’s looking for.  

 

As the feather passes the 12 o’clock position again, 60 seconds, the angels both begin to dig in to his weak spots in unison.  Cas drops Sam’s feet and begins squeezing the soft flesh just above Sam’s knees as Gabriel pokes his clever, devastating fingers in  under Sam’s arms and wriggles them rapidly there.  Sam  _ screams _ and frantically tries to throw them off, with no success.  

 

He’s trying to catch his breath as he watches the feather inch towards the mark.  Five seconds left… two… what the  _ FUCK _ ?!

 

The feather hits one minute eight seconds and starts running backwards, just as he was trying to suck in air to blurt out the phrase.  

 

His eyes bug out in disbelief.  “Whahahat?! NO!!”  He dissolves into laughter again as the tickling renews strength.

 

“Fail!”  Gabriel and Cas both sing out in unison, tormenting him with their wriggling fingers.

 

They poke and knead and tickle him without mercy until he’s breathless, red-faced with tears running down his cheeks, mouth open in a permanent grin as he laughs silently. The angels trail off then, lightly teasing him until he comes back to himself gradually, hiccupping and giggling weakly.  

 

They pull off their hands eventually and Sam slumps back in exhaustion against Gabriel, who is somehow behind him.  His hands are released from their fuzzy handcuffs and the angels both pull him in for hugs, petting him fondly and smoothing his rumpled hair and clothes.  

 

“That was beautiful. Totally worth it,” Gabriel says, smiling into the back of Sam’s neck.  

 

“Cruel,” Sam mumbles, blushing, half-heartedly attempting to sit up, but both of the angels briefly hug him tighter.

 

Cas has rested his head on Sam’s stomach and Sam puts his newly-freed hand on the black hair in spite of himself.  “Your game is proving to be a great deal of fun, Sam.  I’m glad you introduced it to us.”  He cranes his neck up to smile at Sam and Gabriel.  “Shall we continue?”

 

“If Giggles here has recovered,” Gabriel says, poking Sam in the ribs once and earning a swat.

 

“Ugh.  Yes.”  Sam turns the full power of his bitchface on both of them – Gabriel’s eyes twinkle, amused, while Cas hides a smile and turns away to the board, which has miraculously held together during all the thrashing around (probably literally – Sam guesses someone’s grace managed that).  

 

The bitchface is a front and all three of them know it – Sam enjoys being tickled; they all do.   Even though this game was meant to be Sam’s turn to tickle the crap out of them – but actually, it probably still can be.

 

“Well.  I’ll just pencil 500 points in to my score sheet. Gonna WIN this game now, definitely, and then you are gonna pay!”  Sam attempts to look as ominous as possible, which doesn’t work after the next thing Cas says.

 

“Of course.  You’re in first place now and likely will win. Still – there’s the Power Shakeup this turn, correct?”  Cas asks innocently, as Gabriel rubs his hands together and Sam flops back with a loud groan of defeat.

 


End file.
